Last Saturday, I got a phone call that the man who was like a second dad to me, particularly during my teen and college years, had suddenly passed away.

My husband was working at the hospital all weekend, so I packed a large suitcase, put all three kids in the car, and drove to my hometown.

I drove back the next day. On Monday, I frantically made phone calls to arrange after school care for my two older kids and caught up on laundry. On Tuesday, I drove through Tropical Storm Ida with the Baby back to my hometown for the viewing. A two-hour trip took me three and a half hours, and we didn’t even stop.

Wednesday I attended the funeral, and drove back late Wednesday night with a baby who was grumpy from being in the car for nearly a dozen hours over a 5-day period.

I’m so tired, and so heartbroken. Today it’s sunny and beautiful and in the 70s, and I can’t believe this wonderful man isn’t here to enjoy it.

I haven’t written a single word for NaNoWriMo since last Saturday. I can’t imagine that I’ll be able to make it to 50,000 words now, but perhaps tomorrow I’ll start cranking it out again.